


Best Thing I’ve Ever Had in My Mouth (PRIDE)

by totallyrandom



Series: LGBTQ Days [8]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Derek Hale, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, College Student Stiles, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Needs To Use His Words, Getting Together, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Pride, M/M, Oblivious Stiles, Pride Parade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 17:59:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4634841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/totallyrandom/pseuds/totallyrandom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek stumbles upon a Pride parade where Stiles is dancing as a go-go boy on one of the floats.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Thing I’ve Ever Had in My Mouth (PRIDE)

**Author's Note:**

> June is LGBTQ Pride Month.

Derek takes a wrong turn walking from the municipal parking lot to his Tae Kwon Do lesson and hits a roadblock. Not a metaphorical one, an actual police barrier. He takes his headphones out and the sound of drunken revelry and booming bass floods over him. He frowns about letting himself get this lost in his own head and stops to tune back in. Now that he’s paying attention, he’s assaulted by the sounds and smells of hundreds of bodies pressed against each other, partying on a hot day. The stench of cheap beer and lust crashes over him.

Derek knows he’s off his game, and it’s just good luck (for once) that he’s in the middle of the city in the middle of the day and not back home alone in the Preserve at night. Dying from carelessness today would have been the worst way to honor Paige’s memory.

He rolls his neck and drops his shoulders, breathing deeply. He’s early, so he hops the barricade and moves closer to the crowd. It’s almost July, but people seem to be wearing even less than the weather calls for. There are guys in leather thongs and assless chaps, towering drag queens in feather boas, women with duct tape over their nipples as “shirts,” and a group of androgynous teens wearing shirts saying “Hello My Gender Is: Fuck you—mind your own business!”[*](https://www.etsy.com/shop/KitYanPoet) All around them, club music is blaring and the rainbow-flag-waving crowd is loving it. Loudly.

Derek doesn’t really see the appeal of Pride, but something about the scent of pure joy--and even the mix of sweat and sunblock--is a very welcome distraction today. He moves through the crowd quickly, ignoring the appreciative glances and wandering hands. He stares at the stunning drag queens, sees people kissing with abandon, even watches a couple having a wedding ceremony as they march. Around one corner, a group seems about to start an orgy. He keeps walking.

Derek has never seen so many happy people in one place before. He certainly wouldn’t have chosen to come into the city for this, but he’s glad this is where he ended up today. He texts to reschedule his lesson and seeks a quieter spot to watch the parade go by.

The partying was already in full swing when he arrived, and even after an hour, the revelers keep marching in. Of course, this year there’s even more to celebrate, with national marriage equality announced earlier in the week. Derek supposes it’s worth celebrating, even though he’s never really thought about marrying. Before the fire he was too young and after … well.

He hears him before he sees him. There’s a familiar peal of laughter he hasn’t heard in person since New Year--almost six months ago now. Derek’s pulse races as the sound moves closer. He curses as another dance song starts up, drowning out the sound. He closes his eyes, straining to find the voice, the heartbeat, the scent.

Derek’s not prepared for the sight that greets him when finally spots Stiles’s float. Never could have been ready for this. He just stares silently, not even breathing for a moment. All he can think is: _WHAT. No. WHAT._

His surprised gasp brings in a wave of Stiles’s familiar scent and a heady arousal that’s not his own. He hears Stiles saying, “C’mon, José. The terms of the bet ended five minutes ago. You do whatever you want, but I’m getting dressed now.” Derek isn’t sure if he needs that to happen immediately or never. He rakes his gaze over all the exposed skin, in case he never has a chance to see Stiles like this again.

The outfit is utterly ridiculous: just tiny black vinyl shorts and a pair of white Chucks. The imprint of a red kiss from the person in drag next to him is smeared on his cheek and some eye makeup is running down his face. Stiles looks utterly debauched, and all of a sudden Derek is drowning in need.

 

 

José leans in to say something, putting a hand on Stiles’s chest for stability. Derek can’t hear the words, but Stiles blushes violently and doesn’t push the hand away. Derek is already in motion before he thinks better of it. He pushes his way through the crowd and leaps an inhuman distance, landing on the float just a foot from Stiles.

“Ah! What the fuck?! DEREK???”

Derek doesn’t say anything, can’t do anything but stare. His unexpected arrival has José stumbling back a few steps and grabbing at Stiles’s arm to keep from falling. Stiles whispers, “Sorry, Josefina. You ok?” Derek just stares, looking Stiles up and down, breathing him in, listening to his heart pound.

“Yo, Derek,” Stiles snaps fingers in his face a couple times, “Dude, you in there? Earth to Derek!”

Derek shakes himself out of his stupor and looks around sheepishly, face reddening as he realizes how many people are watching him, how out of control he is. He can’t quite get a grip on his emotions today, and being this close to Stiles after so long, and with all that pale skin in front of him just begging to be marked, isn’t helping.

“I … sorry,” he mumbles, turning away. Stiles gets a death grip on his arm before he can take off.

“Are you shitting me? You don’t get to just walk away after pulling a stunt like this.” He turns to José. “Dude, throw me my shit. It’s fine but I gotta go.” She just frowns and throws him a small duffle. Stiles catches it with one hand and drags Derek off the float and through the crowd. He’s too mad to even notice people leering at them as he pulls Derek down a quieter side street.

“What. the. fuck?” he asks. Derek doesn’t open his mouth. “Seriously, Derek. Why are you here? How did you even know I’d be here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming into the city? You couldn’t just text me?! Instead you just pounce on my Pride float like a silent, surprise serial killer?!”

Derek can’t look him in the eye. Can’t pay attention to anything he says, just notices his tone. He’s too distracted by watching Stiles’s mouth as he talks, throat as he swallows, chest as his heart beats below, stomach as it expands and contracts with his breathing. The V of his hips draws Derek’s gaze down to those ridiculous shorts and the lean muscular legs stretching below. His hands itch to touch, but he forces himself to just look at his own feet for a minute while he calms his breathing, trying not to smell Stiles’s emotions. He’s already intruded enough.

“Oh my god. I can’t even,” Stiles grumbles as he moves into the shade and drops his duffle next to him.

“Put a shirt on.”

“I gotta cool down first or I’ll fall over from heat stroke. Shit, I need water. So much water.”

“Wait here.”

“Yes, sir,” Stiles give him a fake salute and an eye roll.

Derek comes back with two bottles of cold water. He immediately regrets it. Wishes he had never even left the house today. Because Stiles dumps the first bottle over his head and then chugs the second one down with his head thrown back as water drips down his chest obscenely, pooling at the waistband of his shorts. Derek thinks he might pass out himself.

Feeling a bit better, Stiles shakes the water out of his hair and leans away over his bag to find his real clothes. Derek tries not to let a whimper escape his throat and makes himself turn away from the sight of Stiles’s ass in his face stretching the vinyl shorts even tighter. He lets out a breath in relief when Stiles pulls on some old lacrosse shorts.

Stiles has to crouch down and contort himself to awkwardly slip off the go-go shorts from underneath. “Ouch. Shit! Ah … ah … Oh, thank fuck. Those were making my balls sweat like you couldn’t imagine.” Stiles sees that Derek has his murder face on. “Uh, not that you imagine my balls. Obviously. … Moving on! This is when you tell me what you’re doing here. … Now. For real. … NOW, Derek!”

“Shirt.”

“Oh my god. Fine. Sorry I’ve been blinding you with all this pasty skin and offending you with my lack of abs,” Stiles says, glowering as he waves a hand down his chest before tugging the shirt down.

“Thank god,” Derek breathes out, too quiet for Stiles to hear. Louder, he says, “Tae Kwon Do.”

“… Yeah? I’m gonna need more than that.”

Derek grits his teeth. “Lessons. Today.”

“You come all the way to the city to take Tae Kwon Do? Seriously? … That’s AWESOME, dude. Why didn’t you tell us? The pack could totally do that as a group. Lord knows they need it. … Wait, do you do it just to get away from them for a while?”

“I learn then use it for sparring.”

Stiles smiles at him fondly. He’s really proud of how Derek has rebuilt trust among the pack. Even Scott will now sometimes admit that Derek isn’t a shitty alpha. “Wait. Wait. For how long? You come to the city and don’t tell me? Were you just driving up here and NOT seeing me? Ever? Like how often?” he frowns.

Derek swallows hard. “No. No. Once a month. This semester. Saturdays you work at the library and go to the bar with friends. So I ...”

“Oh my god. You know my schedule? Of course you do,” he groans. “You’re so ridiculous. I can’t even with you right now. Like I wouldn’t skip the bar or bring you with me like a normal person. Whatever. Ok. Ok. Doesn’t matter right now. Focus. Focus.” He takes a few deep breaths. “So. You’re here. Hi. When’s your lesson? What are you learning today, more back flips?” he smirks.

Derek raises an eyebrow at that. “I skipped. Got distracted …” he waves a hand in the general direction of the parade.

“Ah. And?" 

“And?”

“And get to the part where this diversion somehow ends in you landing on my float and almost making Josefina shit a brick.”

“Sorry I scared your girlfriend,” he growls.

Stiles lets out a deep laugh. “She’s so not into dudes. And, again, still waiting for an explanation here.”

Derek just looks at him. 

“Ugh, I thought we were past this. I know you can speak in full sentences, Derek. I heard them on the phone just last week. Spit it out, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.”

“Stop stalling, DUDE.”

“… I was … surprised.” Stiles just waits for him to continue. “I was here. And I heard you. So I waited. Then you were here.” Stiles waits. “You were here.” He waves a hand up and down at Stiles’s body.

“Yes, counselor. I stipulate for the record that I was, indeed, here. Get. to. the. point.”

Derek closes his eyes and says quietly, “She was touching you.”

“Touching me. Josefina? José was touching me … so you swooped in to save me … from my friend … in drag?” 

“She was touching you.”

“Aaaaaaand?” Stiles just stares at him. “Dude, it’s been too long. I forgot how to read your eyebrows. You’re gonna have to use actual words.”

“You were …” Derek waves a hand up and down toward Stiles’s body again, “and she …,” he growls.

“It’s Pride! People get naked and drunk and handsy. That’s like half the point.” Stiles doesn’t hear Derek make a wounded noise. “If it was a problem, I could’ve taken her down. She may be stronger, but she’s wobbly as fuck in heels.”

Quietly Derek says, “So you came here for sex.”

“What? No! Well, I mean, yeah, that would have been a very favorable outcome. So thanks for fucking up maybe my only chance to get laid this summer. But I’m here with my college LGBTQ group. They’re awesome. Usually. When they’re not being assholes. José and I lost playing beer pong when we made the float last weekend. So we had to ride in drag and as a go-go boy. I’ve done drag before, so they thought it would be worse to make her girly it up. And to make me dance.”

“In those shorts.”

“Yeah, in these shorts.” He waves them around, then wrinkles his nose. “Speaking of, let’s go find a trash can.”

“No.”

“What?”

Derek just looks at him, glancing at the shorts and back.

“You could try semaphore? Oh, you speak Spanish! Tell me in Spanish. No, wait, I only got a C in Spanish this semester, actually. So maybe just try. telling me. in. English." 

“Don’t. throw. them. out,” Derek spits back at him.

“Dude. It’s like you’ve regressed five years. You gonna knock my head into a steering wheel later? Maybe slam me up against a door?”

Derek stares him in the eyes. “If you keep the shorts, that’s a definite possibility.”

“If they offend you so much, let me throw them out!”

Derek says nothing. Stiles just stares right back. And stares. And stares.

Derek sighs and drops his head. “Go back to your friends. See you Friday at the pack meeting.” 

“Yeah, no. No way, dude. Since you’re here, you’re definitely helping me pack up my shit to bring it home for the summer. But right now you’re gonna buy me ice cream and actually explain yourself.”

Derek grabs the bag and shoves the shorts inside, then grabs Stiles’s wrist and drags him away. They find a nearby park and sit in the shade. 

“Oh my god, try this ice cream. Seriously, Derek. This is the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.” 

Derek chokes so hard Stiles has to pat him on the back. “Stop.”

“Huh?” Stiles licks at a line of ice cream dripping down his wrist.

“I can’t. You … you’re so … I want …”

“Still not a mind reader.”

Derek leans in and stares into his eyes, growling lowly, “I. WANT.” Stiles gasps, dropping the cone. He leans in a little, too, hoping but not quite believing he’s reading this right. Derek grabs his face, kissing him fiercely and making a happy, rumbling sound when Stiles sighs into the kiss. Stiles hops onto his lap and they kiss and kiss until they run out of breath.

Stiles rests his forehead on Derek’s shoulder for a minute, breathing heavily. He whispers into Derek’s neck, “We should go. Now. Before we get arrested.” Derek nods and leads Stiles to his car, where they kiss some more.

“Your windows aren’t that tinted. Bed. Bed. Now.” He gives Derek directions to the apartment he shares with Lydia, glad for once that she’s in Italy doing research right now.

When they get inside, Derek kisses him up against the door and Stiles just laughs and pushes him down the hall. They bump into the bed. “Finally,” Stiles sighs, pushing Derek down and crawling up over him to whisper in his ear. “Now, let’s see if you’re better than ice cream.”

 

***

 

For Derek’s birthday two years later, Stiles stands in their bedroom wearing only the vinyl shorts and a rainbow-striped bow around his neck. Derek’s leap from the doorway to tackle him to the bed makes Stiles shriek with laughter.

**Author's Note:**

> * Gender shirt: Kit Yan, [etsy.com/shop/KitYanPoet](https://www.etsy.com/shop/KitYanPoet)
> 
> Photo source: (bad manip of) Neil Patrick Harris and Lena Hall in Hedwig and the Angry Inch on Broadway, © Derek Storm / Splash News  
> [i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2014/04/29/article-2615872-1D48107400000578-552_634x842.jpg](http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2014/04/29/article-2615872-1D48107400000578-552_634x842.jpg)


End file.
